Boone pounded the shit out of my ass. He knew I hated it that rough, but that's all I got anymore. Under the circumstances, I couldn't blame him.

Crushed beneath him, I clenched my teeth and tried not to inhale dirt while he used my asshole for target practice. Every brutal thrust was an attempt to kill his anger; every violent penetration was an effort to keep from hating me.

My dick burned from being ground into the asphalt. Tears came even though I fought them. Boone's grunts grew to shouts as he neared climax.

With one final thrust, he sobbed, and my face scraped across the ground. Then, for my final punishment, he pulled out and gave the ground his semen, knowing how much I longed for it.

Boone sat back against the wall, sweating and shaking as he caught his breath.

I crawled to him and, with one finger, retrieved the final drop of cum clinging to his cock. I put it in my mouth, curled up a few feet away and tried to fall asleep.

It was impossible to find relief, though. Relief from the overpowering heat, from Boone's palpable anger or from the hopelessness of our lives.

Boone was going to leave me soon. I knew it. I had always known it would happen in the summer.

During the winter the shelters were open and we always managed to find a way to stay out of the cold. At night we held each other for warmth; my one remaining source of affection from Boone.

The heat of the summer took even that away from me. It coated our skin with a perpetual layer of sweaty slime, turning physical contact into something oppressive and swampy. Our hair was stiff and our clothes rotted off of us. We reeked.

This is why I knew it would be during the summer that Boone left me, for of all the humiliations that came with being homeless, the one that ate the deepest into Boone's brain was the inability to be clean. It made him gag and it drove him to the edge of insanity.

We hadn't had oral sex since moving to the streets. Boone wouldn't allow it. The thought repulsed him. Before, when our bodies were clean and sex was love, not punishment, oral sex was an endless, frenzied passion for us. We feasted on each other for hours at a time, fascinated by every part of it--the sounds, the smells, the flavors.

Back then when we fucked, I insisted on being on my back. I had to see Boone. I needed to watch. The sight of his sweat did not make me hurt then. It aroused me. It dripped off his nose and chin, splashing onto my body below. Rivulets ran down his chest and stomach. Beads jumped from his nipples with every thrust of his cock.

Boone's thighs got so slick with it that I couldn't hold on. We locked our fingers together and held hands while we fucked. His head flung back with the force of his orgasm and droplets flew from his hair, like from a dog shaking dry.

He would try to spread his arms--to soar away perhaps--but I wouldn't let him go. I kept him anchored to me and our knuckles turned white from the effort.

When the tide subsided, he would smile down at me as he leaned forward to kiss me. He kissed with a devouring passion that shook me and left me breathless. He moved his lips to my ear and whispered, "Come for me, baby." I always did.

I met Boone my first year of college. I was a philosophy major going to the Ivy League school my father had chosen for me. Boone was a high school drop-out, working at the same school as a janitor. I was in the library researching a paper on Plato, and Boone was in the library changing light bulbs.

Our courtship lasted for five minutes. It began with an exchange of looks that left me gasping for air. It ended with me on my knees near the shelves on Foucault, Boone's cock filling my throat.

We moved in together that night. For two months, I lived a dream and my life finally had meaning.

All of it ended when my father found out. Viewing homosexuals as deviants a step below rapists and murderers, my father threatened to disown me unless I stopped seeing Boone.

I said, "Fuck you."

So my father tried to buy Boone. One million dollars would be his if he disappeared and kept quiet.

I closed my eyes, held my breath and braced my heart.

Boone said, "Fuck you."

Life did not change much at first. I was kicked out of school and Boone was suddenly "laid off", but I had some money of my own and we were high on the enormity of what we had done for love.

My money ran out, though, and my father's money preceded us everywhere we went. If we did manage to find work, we were soon dismissed with the vaguest of reasons.

A year later, we were homeless. Our first night on the street was the first night Boone fucked me from behind, pain piercing my ass and my heart.

I'll take whatever Boone needs to give me, of course, but God, how I long for those ravenous kisses and the sight of him loving me.

Sleep finally came, but no relief came with it. I had nightmares about Boone leaving me. I dreamed of his hate.

In the morning, I was afraid to open my eyes. Boone coughed, though, and I knew I had survived another day.

We dressed in silence, careful not to look at each other. His nearness made me hard. The need to hold or be held was overpowering. I wanted to apologize. I prayed for his punishment. I needed his forgiveness.

We scrounged food from some nearby dumpsters, then split up to look for work. We rarely made it through the doors of businesses any more, but we still kept on trying.

Sometimes, when Boone was not around, I would panhandle. He refused to do it; he would starve before he would beg. I found it less embarrassing than getting chased out of businesses. People expected the homeless to stand outside and beg, but they were much less tolerant when their safe, indoor worlds were invaded. I preferred to stay on the street, where people expected me to stay.

For Boone's sake, though, I gave the job hunting a shot. Six businesses kicked me out before I'd even made it through the door. Two let me enter, but I heard parts of conversations--"crazy", "disgusting", "it's their own fault"--and I was too ashamed to ask.

Twice I was stopped by the police. They ran my name for warrants and conducted "field interviews", as they were fond of euphemising.

I did beg for a while, but I only got two quarters. One guy tossed his half eaten burger at me, like he would to a dog. I picked it up and ate it. My dinner was coming from a trash can, anyways.

I finally called it a day after another homeless guy chased me with a fork when I got too close to his aluminum cans.

I prayed that Boone had a better day, but I was not hopeful.

I turned a corner, about two blocks from our current alley, and I saw Boone approaching a street vendor selling sunglasses and newspapers. I heard the vendor's vicious tone. I saw the spit fly from his mouth and I saw it hit Boone in the face.

For a moment, I was frozen. Then I turned and ran back around the corner, terrified that Boone would know I had seen.

I counted to one hundred, then peeked around the wall.

Boone was gone.

I ran to the alley, panic-stricken, but Boone was there. He was already stripped, his shirt in shreds on the ground. His face where the spit had hit was red and raw, as if he had tried to rub away the skin along with the spit.

He paced.

When he saw me, he stopped. His eyes were desperate. Then he looked away and squatted, his back against the wall. He clenched his hands between his legs.

I took off my clothes, watching him from the corner of my eye, then I sat down a few yards from him.

Boone bounced against the wall, his back hitting harder with every contact. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He looked straight ahead and began to grunt in time to his bouncing.

I was scared.

"Boone?"

He didn't respond. One tear ran down his cheek.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but I couldn't keep from crying.

His hands suddenly flew back and slammed against the wall. Then he wrapped them tightly around the back of his head and his body curled into a ball. Still bouncing, he began to mumble. The words broke my heart.

Boone was disintegrating before my eyes, rupturing from the inside. I was losing him.

I stood and went to him. I got on my hands and knees before him and offered him the only thing I had left to give.

His mumbling stopped, but I could still hear his body thudding against the wall.

I waited.

The alley suddenly reverberated with a roar. My hairs crawled across my skin. I tried to look back, but Boone was on me. He slammed my head into the ground and his cock tore into me in one violent drive.

I cried out and he punched me in the head.

It wasn't rape because I would have let him kill me if it helped save him, but it wasn't sex, either. He drew blood with his teeth and ripped tissue with his cock. The noises he made were not human.

I passed out before it was over.

When I came to, Boone was gone. I knew he would be, but the foreknowledge did nothing to lessen my pain.

I buried my face against my arms and screamed until my throat was raw. When I had no more energy to cry, I laid and stared. Some voice far away urged me to look for him, but my legs would not move.

I slipped away into something like sleep.

When I awoke again, it was daylight. I studied, without feeling, my dried blood on the asphalt. I could hear and I could see, but I had no thoughts.

I was empty.

My body eventually began to move and I pulled myself to my feet. I got dressed, every motion slow and draining.

I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside of the alley. I didn't remember getting there. My brain wouldn't function enough to tell me what to do next. The sun hurt my eyes.

Suddenly, Boone was standing before me.

"Where are you going?"

I couldn't answer. I was afraid he wasn't real.

"Jeff?"

I touched him.

"You need to lie down. I hurt you pretty bad. Come on."

Boone put his arm around my shoulder and tried to lead me back to the alley. I grabbed his shirt with both fists and buried my face against his chest.

"Jeff? What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer.

Boone pulled my head up and made me look at him. "Did you think I'd left?"

I nodded, sobbing, and struggled to return to his chest. People stared as they tried to avoid getting too close to us.

Boone laughed. A real laugh. "You are such a fucking idiot." He made me look at him again. "I'm a homeless faggot, for Christ's sake. I'm worth less than nothing. Why would I walk away from the only thing of value that I have?"

I buried my face again, the sobs quieting.

Boone's lips were at my ear. "See all these assholes staring at us? Not one of them has as much as I do."

I felt calm. I was hard.

"Now stop blubbering. I need to fix you up." He held my hand and pulled me into the alley. "And I got something special."

For the first time, I noticed the large, paper grocery bag Boone was carrying.

"For me?"

"No. It's for that asshole drunk who's always chasing us with a fork. Of course it's for you, stupid."

I had to feel him suddenly. I pushed him against the wall and I kissed him. He seemed shy or embarrassed and tried to turn his head away, but I got my lips on his again. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and I nibbled on it.

I heard the bag thunk to the ground and Boone's hands were on the back of my head. He tried to climb inside my mouth. He tried to devour me.

I dropped my arms to my side and let Boone take over. He turned us and pinned me against the wall.

With our tongues still buried in each other's mouths, Boone ripped my shirt off with one hand and undid my pants with the other. My pants fell to the ground. I kicked them away and nudged off my shoes with my toes.

I started to undo Boone's pants, but he grabbed my wrists and held them against the wall, above my head.

We kissed and humped and he was hard inside his pants. We moaned into each other's mouths and against each other's skin. My knees gave out. Boone bent slightly, jammed his hips up against me and, with my arms still pinned above my head, he lifted me off of the ground.

I wrapped my legs around his ass. His name floated from me. "Boone."

His lips brushed my ear. "I'm sorry, baby. I know I've been a little rough on your hole lately."

My head bumped back against the wall. His tongue ran down my throat. "I didn't mind."

Boone laughed. "You're so full of shit."

His lips were on mine again. He sucked my tongue as far into his mouth as he could. He lowered me to the ground.

Boone stood above me, smiling. His eyes explored my body while he undressed.

It had been a long time since I had really looked at Boone's body. To me he was that hard, muscular boy I had kneeled before on the library floor. I always saw the rich brown skin that set off the shockingly pink flesh of his ass and cock. I remembered long, elegant limbs and intelligent eyes. Back then, he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

Now I looked at Boone as he truly was. His bones protruded painfully. His skin was sallow and crusted with dirt. The only pink was from the sores that marked his body. His limbs were still long and elegant, though; nothing could hide his graceful pride. And his eyes--they had wisdom now to go with the intelligence. Boone was still the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

I raised my foot and nudged his balls with my toes. He held my ankle and smiled. "Not yet."

He sat down, his back against the wall, and reached into the bag. He lifted out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls.

"This might sting your pee pee a little."

"Worse than having it dragged along the asphalt?"

He smiled."You're such an asshole."

He patted his thighs and I slid between his legs. My knees were up and my feet were planted on the outsides of his thighs. Our hard cocks swayed between us, bumping and kissing. Our balls spread on the ground like fleshy puddles. I wanted to slurp his up.

Boone cringed at the sight of what he had done to me, then he treated my wounds with a tenderness that made me tremble.

He avoided my eyes by concentrating on a scrape on my shoulder. "I'll get us out of here, Jeff."

"I know you will."

"Don't give up on me."

"Not for all the money in the world."

He dipped his head slightly and his hand wiped across his eyes. I loved him so much that I ached.

I cleared my throat to hide the crack in my voice. "Where'd you get the money, anyways?"

He shrugged. "I begged."

"Boone . . . " It slipped out with a gasp before I could stop it.

He gripped the back of my neck and held me, our faces almost touching. "I would have gotten on the ground and groveled if I had to." He kissed me and it hurt and it felt wonderful and it was frightening and it made me feel safe.

He let go of me and looked down, concentrating on my wounds again. "It... hurts me to look at your face. That's why... "

His hand wiped across his eyes again.

"And it hurts me when you don't look at me."

He sobbed, but covered it with a laugh. "Maybe we can compromise. I'll fuck you from the side." He held his hands out to his sides. "Ta da. All done. You know, you're dick's pretty sexy with road burns all over it."

I laughed and wiped away a tear he'd missed.

"Now for your present."

Boone reached into the bag again and pulled out two gallon jugs of water.

My eyes widened. "Boone."

He popped the cap off one of the bottles and held it above my head. I looked up and he poured.

The shock of the cold water hitting my face was orgasmic. My body jerked and my hands hit the ground, lifting my ass up off of it. Boone grabbed my cock and squeezed while he moved the water around my body.

I gasped for air. I fought the need to come. I moved my cock in Boone's fist and he smiled.

"Not yet."

He brought a bar of raspberry glycerin soap out of the bag. He held it to my nose and I inhaled. My favorite.

He lathered our hands together, working up a thick coat of foam. With one hand he held our cocks together, with the other he guided my hands to help him. I ran mine up and down our joined shafts, stroking away the dirt. He rubbed my slit clean with his thumb, using quick, circular motions. I scooped our balls into my hands and gently wiped them clean.

Boone picked up the jug and poured it onto our cockheads. The soap rinsed away. We both looked down at our glistening, pink heads, nudged together by our joined hands.

"Damn. We got hot-looking dicks."

"Look good enough to eat." Boone doubled over and kissed the tops of both of our cocks. The sight of it jolted me. He started to come up, but I put my hand on the back of his neck and pushed him down farther.

"Suck us." He whimpered. My asshole puckered as both of our cockheads slid between Boone's lips. The soft flesh of his head pressed into mine as if they were becoming one.

"Suck us hard."

Boone's cheeks caved in and my balls were ripped from my body. I felt the stretch all the way to my neck.

"Jesus."

I held the back of his head and pumped my hips. I felt the soft caresses of his tongue against my cock, contrasting with the harsh friction created by his ridged cock.

The muscles in Boone's back quivered. I pushed him down harder. He gagged and I loosened my grip. Boone's cock slipped out of his mouth and he dove all the way down on mine.

I was too close.

I pulled Boone's head back and smiled. "Not yet."

He licked his lips, watching my cock with indecision.

I picked up the soap and lathered my hands. I washed Boone's face. He purred when I scrubbed behind his ears.

We took turns washing each other. We laughed as we slipped and bumped together. We kissed, and we explored long neglected, but never forgotten, parts of our bodies. We watched as the shame that had grown between us floated away on islands of bubbles.

Boone slid his hands under my ass and cleaned my still-tender hole. He slipped a finger gently in and lathered my prostate. My dick jerked and Boone laughed. "Guess nothing's broken."

He pulled his finger out and I lathered up my hands. I returned the favor of the gland washing. Boone held my wrist to the ground and began fucking himself on my finger.

I smiled and said, "Not yet."

Boone fucked harder.

"Not yet, Boone. You're cheating."

"Shut up and hold still."

I pushed him over, then slammed my finger in hard several times. Boone yelped. "Oh. I'm sorry. Was I too rough on your hole?"

He laughed and sat up. "You really are an asshole."

Boone pulled a bottle of shampoo out of the bag. He squeezed a dollop of thick, amber liquid onto his palm and worked it into my hair. I stroked our cocks together to the rhythm of his shampooing. The drag of his nails on my scalp sent shivers to my toes, making them curl under. I squeezed our cocks in response and rubbed my palm hard against their tips.

We moaned.

Boone rinsed my hair, then I shampooed his. I felt his scalp tingling against my fingertips as I massaged and cleaned. He closed his eyes and drifted away to some far off place.

He came back to me when I rinsed him with the last of the water.

"Mmm. I feel almost human again."

"Just almost?"

"Yeah. There's only one thing left I've got to do to make it complete."

Boone lifted a beach towel out of the bag. He spread it on the dry ground and laid me on my back. The soft newness of the towel was unbearable against my skin. I closed my eyes.

"Boone."

"I'm here, baby."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and Boone entered me in one long, loving glide. His cock, again, forced tears from my eyes but, this time, it was different.

I opened my eyes and I watched everything as Boone made love to me.

Sweat and water dripped from his face and hair. Rivulets trickled down his chest and stomach. His heartbeat knocked drops loose from his nipples. All of it pooled on my body.

The muscles of his neck strained and I fingered their tautness. I laid my thumbs against his nipples and felt his pulse. I caressed my palms along his ribs and their prominence made me hurt.

Boone's stomach hardened and he called out my name. His hands reached for me and I locked my fingers into his. His body relaxed and he began to fuck me to some inner rhythm.

I raised my head and watched Boone slide in and out of my body. My asshole turned itself inside out with the effort of trying to hold onto him; to keep Boone from leaving.

Boone was ready to come and I was suddenly frightened.

I laid my head back down and he was smiling at me. He whispered to me through clenched teeth, "I got something that belongs to you."

Boone threw his head back and droplets flew through the air. His hips slammed against me and, calling my name, Boone gave me his semen. It coursed through my bowels, through my veins, through my heart. Boone filled me.

He sobbed and shouted and he seemed unable to stop. Our hands were crushed together. Beads of blood appeared on the backs of my hands where Boone's nails dug in.

His body arched higher, somehow, and I cried out his name. He seemed to freeze, his mouth and eyes opened wide. He looked at me. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His semen overflowed and it ran out of me, spreading itself on his balls.

"Boone."

He seemed to deflate with a drawn-out sigh and he collapsed on me. He ground his stomach against my cock, his cock still hard inside of me. He kissed me with that old hunger and I tried to pull him into my body. My heels dug into his ass and I fucked his stomach while Boone devoured me.

My body shook. My muscles stretched and quivered.

Boone's lips pressed against my ear and he whispered, "Come for me, baby."

I rose off the ground as wave after wave of rapture crashed over me, every one producing a thick, white load that splashed against Boone and dripped back onto me.

He laughed with delight and fucked me some more as my orgasm refused to end. I couldn't breathe. I prayed for it to stop. I hoped it would never be over.

When it finally was, I laid in his arms and listened to his heart slow. I ran my fingers through the sweat on his body and wondered if Boone would get us out in time. Get us out before he had to fuck me from behind again; before he didn't feel human again.

©2001 Mel Smith - Contributor's Bio